


Two Percent Off

by TheNatureKing



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, cupid haechan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNatureKing/pseuds/TheNatureKing
Summary: Greek Mythology AU!Cupid Haechan is tasked with making the reincarnation of Orpheus, a popular artist named Mark Lee, fall in love in order to prevent the world from falling out of balance due to the mass popularity of Mark's anti-love music.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *compiled from my twitter into long fic form.

Haechan is the best of the best when it comes to what he does and that’s make love... happen between other people, that is. As a Cupid, blessed by and working under the goddess Aphrodite, Haechan’s job is to find two people and make them fall in love with each other. It’s simple.

And easy, might he add. The hard part is making sure the couple stays in love. Contrary to popular belief, Cupids just don’t shoot it and boot it. All lovers face obstacles and it’s the Cupid’s job to make sure the couple has the tools to face them WITHOUT his help.

Besides, he’s one of the few Cupids still employed that can boast a near perfect 100% success rate. That -2% time was a total fluke, though, and no one is allowed to talk about that.

It makes sense in hindsight, he supposes, why he’s the Cupid tasked with the stopping the latest Anti-Cupid tipping the balance in the favor of Hades’. His success rate gives a lot of people hope which in turn gives the higher ups somebody to use as their martyr. It’s a set up.

Sure, it’s a bit bogus, but Haechan’s always liked a challenge. Just how hard could it be to make an Antique fall in love anyway? His predecessors may have struggled, but they succeeded nonetheless! He, himself, would be no different, Haechan concludes. This could be fun!

Haechan’s never really dabbled in human affairs other than when he’s absolutely had to, so he isn’t exactly the most up-to-date with the hot and trending, but even with his head in the Clouds, he’s heard a lot of this Antique, a popular idol boy or something along those lines.

And if there one was thing he’s learned about idols over the years is that everybody loves them, and they return those feelings far and between. But Haechan is determined—excited, even—when he’s handed the Antique’s profile.

“This is him?” he asks with a strange amusement.

He studies the notes on the boy named Mark Lee. He’s young, incredibly talented, and surprisingly handsome for someone contributing to a great imbalance in the world.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Haechan declares. He packs the profile along with his bow and arrows and sets out.

The picture really doesn’t do Mark Lee justice, Haechan observes. His first time seeing him in person is at one of his group’s fan meets, one he only gets into because a woman he’s matched in the past is a former fan site owner for BnB. She gifts him a ticket out of gratitude.

At the fan meet, Haechan is pretty sure he’s the only guy there and not that he cares what anyone thinks, but like it’s kinda hard to ignore the looks, LoOkS, and LOOKS™️ he receives just for breathing. To say the least, he stands out.

And normally, dyed hair will make you stand out on your own but that combined with his... stylistic clothing, he’s almost certain some of the fans there are wondering if he’s like an idol himself! Whenever he shifts in his seat, their eyes are on him. It’s annoying.

When it comes to the ‘fan meeting’ portion of the ‘fan meet event’, Haechan is relieved. Humans are strange creatures in the presence of their idols and the quicker he could talk to Mark, the quicker he could leave.

Mark is at the end of the table so Haechan has to bullshit his way through the other members until he can get to him. The members try their best to mask their surprise at seeing a male fan at one of their events, but they’re just as a warm as they’d normally be to a fan.

Still, Haechan’s glad when he makes it through the last one before Mark.

“Hi, how are you?” Mark asks cheerily. His tone is not what you would expect for an Antique.

“I’m good?”

“That’s good! And what would you like from me today?”

Haechan doesn’t know why he freezes.

It’s almost comical that way he does so (But mostly uncharacteristic). The look he has on his face is probably the reason Mark laughs. Haechan figures he sees awestruck expressions on a daily basis as an idol, but they must never get old.

“I’m going to make you fall in love.”

As soon as Haechan blurts it, he feels his cheeks reddening to match the lip prints on his jacket.

Mark on the other hand is rendered speechless. If Haechan wasn’t mentally screaming at his sudden outburst, he would laugh because oh how the fan meet tables have turned.

The two awkwardly stare at each other in flabbergasted silence until the security pushes Haechan along. Haechan walks slowly back to his seat, wondering just what the hell happened back there. Haechan almost never got performance anxiety. Well, there was the 2% talking again.

Haechan is too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice Mark’s feverish glances being sent his way. The idol could barely focus on the fans in front of him, which his members of course noticed, but they couldn’t pinpoint why so there was nothing they could do.

The fan meet ends with BnB performing one of their recent songs, but Haechan leaves midway after Mark’s solo rap performance. Mark’s eyes follow him until he’s gone. The encounter sparks Mark’s next song-charting hit “Outburst” and everyone is clueless of his muse.

Meanwhile, after that incident, Haechan takes an L on the assignment and passes it off onto someone else for a while or at least until he can figure out why he got newborn jitters. His 2% failure rate ends up staying the same if you don’t round up.


	2. Chapter 2

Mark makes amazing music. Critics’ words, not his. They say the stories behind his lyrics are ubiquitous, his beats and compositions are bold, and his voice is expressive. He’s heralded as the songwriter of the new generation, and rightfully so.

98% of the songs Mark writes are good, either lyrically or musically. The 2% comes from the beginning of his career, but he’s since learnt from his few mistakes. It’s kind of weird how easily it comes to him. He’s written two-month chart toppers in under five minutes before.

Sometimes, his members claim that Mark isn’t human and that songwriting is his secret superpower, but those kind of comments always make him uncomfortable. He can never reason why, and when people ask about his inspiration for a song, he just makes something up.

“Come on, Mark, you trust us, right? You can tell us who your muse is.”

It’s times like these—when his members are lowkey interrogating him about his genius—that Mark wishes he was a soloist.

With a forced chuckle, Mark usually responds, “Just a dumb drama I saw on tv.”

Of course, you can tell none of them believe him, instead fantasizing up some elaborate scandalous confession they think he’s hiding even though that could be further from the truth. They’re not the only ones either. Reporters, their fans, even his parents all wonder about it.

No one seems to believe that Mark doesn’t have an actual person he’s using as a muse.

“You can’t write a GOOD, sad love songs without experiencing your own heart break,” is something he encounters daily—online and off.

“Clearly, I can,” is all he responds. Imagination, duh.

The great Mark-muse mystery. The mystery of Mark’s muse. Mark’s mysterious muse. Quite frankly, it’s crazy how many headlines gossip columns can draw up. Just how they brainstorm for those, Mark does the same for the songs he writes.

He waits for an idea, then jots it down.

No muse needed.

Strangely enough, his no-muse streak is broken by the sudden appearance of the atypical, idol-looking fanboy who comes to their fan meet and... confesses to him? More bold than any beats he’s ever produced. His tone of voice more expressive than Mark’s own.

It’s peculiar and unexpected which definitely catches Mark off guard because he swears he’s already seen it all as an idol. Fans doing questionable things, idols doing questionable things, staff doing question things... just people in general doing very questionable things.

But no, it’s the boy with the lip print jacket that leaves him at a loss of words, not an easy feat to accomplish against a writer either. The sound and lyrics that later become “Outburst” plague his mind feverishly until he’s back in his room. He works on that song like a madman   
It charts like a madman, too. Five weeks consecutively at #1. Against big established artists in the field no less as well.

When his band mates beg Mark for the details on Mark’s “secret muse” that led to the birth of this monster charter, Mark finally has an answer for them.

“The fanboy who confessed… At our last fan meet, he said he was going to make me fall in love. I don’t know why, but he was the reason I wrote the song.”

His members, surprisingly, don’t give him too much flack for being inspired by a boy, but their curiosity adds to Mark’s momentum.

Song after song, Mark pumps out about the fanboy, so much so that his company forces them to release an EP to capitalize on this moment in their lives. All the songs chart, of course, even the intro.

In an interview, his members spill that his muse is an unidentified fanboy.

When word travels fast in the human world, it travels even faster in the Clouds.

Everyone knows instantly who the boy with the lip printed jacket is; so the fanboy who confessed, and is also Mark’s muse, happens to be a Cupid by the name of Haechan.

“I’m who’s what now?”


	3. Chapter 3

There are a lot of stereotypes Cupids face. They’re air-headed, flighty, indecisive, too idealistic, hopeless romantics, blind to the truth, and above all, they LOVE a good gossip. Amongst these, only one of these is actually accurate for the majority (98%) of Cupids.   
Those in the minority (2%), such as Haechan, are grounded enough to know not to trust unsubstantiated claims, and in the Clouds, anything not from a primary source is usually proven to be unfounded anyhow. Cupids pretend to be hungry just to stir the pot. Love and drama mix well.

Haechan knows this. He knows how Cupids are. Idle hands are Hades’ playground after all. So when word gets to him that Mark Lee supposedly said that Haechan was his muse, he snorts and has himself a good laugh.

“I’d rather hear it from Hermes. Least you know not to trust him.”

Haechan doesn’t bother entertaining the discussion any longer and takes on a bunch of rookie assignments, and two weeks later, just as he predicts, the Cupids have long moved on to surely bigger and juicier topics. Haechan’s mistake, however, is thinking it’s all behind him.

Haechan learns not to underestimate the power of fans; their networking skills are no joke. After the boy with a lip print jacket is revealed as Mark’s muse, those at the fanmeet who had lowkey suspected Haechan of being someone important had snapped pics and shared them online.

While news in the Clouds spreads like wild lightning streaking here and there in a flash, in the human world, news travels in waves from a center point. Haechan’s pics spread steadily online, accumulating more and more people with the pressing question: who is lip print jacket boy?

Coincidently, Haechan isn’t informed of these developments in the human world until Hermes arrives. Haechan is in the midst of matchmaking a wealthy dog lover with the owner of a struggling animal shelter when he gets the letter of summoning, flown in by Ms. Aphrodite’s doves.

Another Cupid arrives shortly after the message, and upon hearing how the Cupid planed to complete the assignment, Haechan nearly loses his calm.

“You don’t just shoot it and boot it! Don’t they teach you anything in Intermediary School?”

The other Cupid sends him a look.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” the Cupid responds smugly. “This is my mission now. I’ll complete it however I want.”

Haechan’s annoyance travels with him his entire way back to the Clouds and all the way to Ms. Aphrodite's chamber, which he enters without knocking.

The ever-changing room has been renovated again. The floors are tiled pink and the throne has adopted an open clam design with Ms. Aphrodite herself, draped in velvet, acting as the pearl. Hermes hovers above the crystal blue pool surrounding her, whispering jokes in her ear.

Her smile is perfectly fake and her eyes light up with relief when she sees Haechan.

“Oh, Haechan, dear! Come on in!”

Hermes senses the shift in her energy and he backs up some using his winged-sandals and helmet.

“How have you been?” she asks.

“Fine. Did you need something?”

Ms. Aphrodite doesn’t normally tolerate cross behavior, but Haechan’s always been a favorite of hers so she ignores him, instead nodding at Hermes who rummages through his bag. Hermes withdraws a envelope and winks.

“You’ve got mail,” he says, holding it out.

As soon as Haechan reaches for it, however, Hermes snatches it away. He repeats this two more times with an impish giggle and Haechan lets out a grumble.

“Have you ever been in love, Sehun?” Haechan asks innocently. Behind them, Irene makes a derisive noise, surely by accident.

Hermes flinches at the question and shoves the letter in Haechan’s hand before muttering a flurry of excuses to the Goddess of Love and then dipping out at the speeds he was known for in his glory days.

“You shouldn’t tease a God, Haechan,” Ms. Aphrodite scolds with a chuckle.

“He started it,” Haechan pouts but there’s no petulance in his tone. He waves the little paper her doves delivered and raises his brows. She points at Haechan’s hand and he finally examines the writing on the mail. It reads:

‘To Haechan   
From Ms. Aphrodite’

“What is this?”

Ms. Aphrodite, or rather Irene as Haechan likes to informally address her when she gets like this, shrugs her shoulders.

“How would I know? It’s YOUR mail, isn’t it?”

It’s time like these when Haechan truly sees why the other Gods say Irene and Sehun are like-minded.

Haechan slides his thumb under the fold of the letter and forces it open gently. Inside, is a little pink slip, one Haechan knows all too well. His face drops.

“You’re kidding me,” he mumbles to himself as he reads over the notice.

It’s a special request from Irene herself.

“Why am I being put back on this case? I already submitted my failure form.”

He looks over the pink paper in disbelief. It was already wrong for them to have assigned Haechan an Antique in the first place considering he was still an “amateur” yearly experience wise. This, however, this special request (aka you can’t decline unless you’ll be cursed) by Irene herself, no less, was like the cherry on top to an already unlucky situation.

When Irene genuinely smiles, she lights up the room. Haechan has to look away while she speaks.

“Something has come up, Haechan. Things have changed. The situation is different,” she explains, infusing just enough authority in her otherwise silky voice to keep Haechan’s potential disrespect at bay. “Hermes has delivered a message from the Oracles. You were in their vision.”

That catches Haechan’s attention and he waits for her to continue.

“Apparently, that Antique of yours—“

“He’s not mine—“ he carefully interjects—

“Mark Lee—was it?—he’s not a regular Antique like we thought.” Irene pauses. “He’s a reincarnate as well.”

“Woah, wait, what?”

Haechan shakes his head and then replays what she just said to him in his mind.

“He was a reincarnate, too? No wonder I felt something off back then. How come nobody caught that?”

Irene sighs. “I’m not sure how, either, Haechan. This is a dire situation, indeed.”

“Well, do we at least know who he’s an reincarnation of?”

Haechan remembers studying hundreds of Greek figures for his history class taught by Clio, the muse of history, but he couldn’t quite see any of them in Mark Lee thinking back to their encounter. Who could it be?

“Are you familiar with Orpheus?” Irene asks.

Suddenly it clicks and it all makes sense.

“HE’S an Antique with Orpheus inside him?” Haechan asks, laughing in disbelief. “This is great. Absolutely great. A beautiful combination.”

Irene ignores his hysterics. “There’s more.”

Irene tells him about the Oracles’ vision. According to her, which is according to Hermes, which is according to the Oracles, Mark is in the process of developing an anti-love song that could tip the scales in Hades’ favor. Apathy was his weapon and Mark’s music was the provider.

“Do you know what you have to do?” Irene asks after the brief.

Haechan nods solemnly. He could do this. This was a second chance; he would succeed this time.

“Use any means necessary, Haechan, dear. We’re counting on you.”

Haechan leaves her chamber thinking about his 2%.


	4. Chapter 4

Haechan needs someone to blame to make himself feel better about everything. Should he blame Mark for making a stranger his muse? The stupid fans that took pictures of him and spread his image around? Or should he direct his malice at the interviewers who asked the question?

Mark on the other hand; he needs to scratch that itch in the back of his brain that comes far and few in between, that itch that usually leads to a genius creation, a composition ahead of its time. Revolutionary. He’s only experienced this feeling twice before in his life.

The first time is when his favorite uncle passes away. For weeks, Mark struggles with depression, struggles keeping it all together. The itch in the back of his brain is the thing that pulls him out once he starts scratching at it. He composes a heartfelt dedication, a ballad.

It’s in memory of his late uncle, and he keeps it under wraps for the most part, but somehow the higher ups at the company get wind of the production and convinces Mark to let them take a listen which turns into them convincing Mark to sell them the song.

One of the company’s veteran singers falls in love with the song, saying that it’s the ballad his winter special album needs. While Mark feels honored to have the opportunity, naturally, he’s adhesive to giving something so precious to him away. It seems so wrong.

But after hearing the emotion behind the man singing his lyrics, after hearing his voice alongside Mark’s music, seemingly fitting together like a puzzle, Mark has a change of mind. The world needs to hear this, too, he thinks. Hear his music. His message. He sells it to him.

The song is released as a side track for the veteran's winter special album, but charts better than his title track. That time was when he was still a trainee. The second time Mark gets an itch is after the boy group he would be debuting in learns of their name, BnB (Black on Black).

It’s an exciting time for him and the other trainees. All of their hard work seems like it’s finally paying off. And then, their company shares their debut track with them… and they’re confused. The song chosen for them is dated, extremely conventional, and lackluster.

“We’ll flop with this song. It sucks.”

Mark hears these complaints daily and somewhere in the midst of all of them, the itch begins. He takes his time scratching it, but once he finally digs in, the song he produces is exciting, and much more suitable for a debut track.

With a lot of convincing, Mark’s title track is switched with the garbage one, and the future looks bright again. They have a hot debut because of the song and claim the title of Monster Rookies. Mark’s learned to respect that odd itch, the “Hitmaker Itch” as he’s dubbed it.

His muse brings back the Hitmaker Itch, but Mark can’t quite figure out how to scratch it this time. Before, it was easy; all he had to do was just focus in on it, meditate. But now, he has no clue. He can still compose, but none of his creations even come close to satisfying.

On top of that, Mark starts to think of his muse a lot more frequently than he’d care to admit. It’s like one second he’ll be minding his own business when all of a sudden--BOOM!-intrusive thoughts. Who is he? What’s he doing right now? And more importantly, where the hell is he?

Mark’s seen the pictures their group’s fans have uploaded of the boy with the lip print jacket. He’s seen the gossip sites’ headlines. The speculation within the comments. He’s read all of them, too. It amazes him how fans come together when there’s a good mystery involved.

He’ll never admit it, but he also has one of the better quality, higher res photos of his muse saved to his phone. It captures the dark shade of his hair and the melanin of his skin in high definition. Mark almost feels like he’s here with him whenever he looks at the photo.

But at the end of the day he’s not and a creepy picture can only do so much for his mind. He likes it better when all he had to do was just strike up an idea in his brain and run wild with it. When he had no muse. Everything now is just a little bit too complicated for him.

He wishes he at least knew a name. “Lip print jacket boy” turns into quite the mouthful after a while. And to say it’s been a while is an understatement. Almost two months have passed and Mark and the rest of the world have gotten zero leads on lip print jacket boy.

If it makes Mark sad over the last few days of BnB’s short-lived promotional period of their impromptu EP ‘His Confession’ and hit single “Outburst”, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say much, actually, these days. He grows accustomed to his members’ hasty shushes when he comes around.

What always amazes Mark is how naive his members can be in their attempts to keep something hidden from him when in actuality they’re super obvious about it. The only ones who do even a remotely decent job of keeping their composure around him are Renjun and Jaemin.

He would add Jeno, but his eyes are too expressive to not read them like a book. The youngest of the group, Chenle and Jisung, couldn’t keep a secret if they were the last two on Earth. Mark is pretty sure, though, they’ve developed a secret code for when he comes around.

Somehow, someone always ends up shouting water isn’t wet and then the group proceeds to rehash the same ol’ debate as if they hadn’t done that twice the day before. Suspicious, no? 

After a schedule one day, Mark is sitting in the front with their manager when he hears whispers in the back.

“Is he okay?” Chenle asks.

“No, he’s in one of those moods,” Jeno says.

“Artistic moods,” Jisung responds.

“No, if it was one of his artistic moods, then he would be writing. But he’s stopped,” Jeno says.

“How do YOU know he’s stopped?”

“Yeah, you don’t room with him.”

“Yeah, but Jaemin does and he told me.”

“That’s not a bad thing, is it? That he’s stopped writing?” Jisung inquires. He looks to Chenle for an answer and when he has none, they both look to Jeno. He gives them an uneasy smile.

“It’s just temporary, not a big deal, I think.”

“You think?” They say it simultaneously. They exchange looks of awe and nod their heads, confirming their mental link.

Jeno hums. “Jaemin says he just overworked himself with the last EP and just needs to rest.”

“The power of a muse, huh?” Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust.

Mark pretends to be asleep as he listens to their conversation and continues the facade of ignorance when they arrive back at the dorm. Later that night, Mark realizes that replaying Jisung’s comment in his head scratches at his Hitmaker Itch. He stays up writing notes for hours.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark finally puts his pen down when his hand starts to cramp up. He stretches back in his chair, and when he finishes, his brain belatedly registers the time. It’s so late he can hear Jaemin’s snores, something he’s never heard before since he typically falls asleep first.

Just then, something hits their window. Mark thinks he’s imagining it, but then he hears it again… and again… and again… He thinks it might be someone throwing a pebble, but that wouldn’t make any sense because who can throw several stories high? Mark peeks out the window.

In the low lighting of the streetlamp, he makes out a familiar figure waving to him.

“Lip print jacket boy?” Mark gasps. He covers his mouth and watches Jaemin to make sure he hadn’t woken him up. When the boy only turns on his side, Mark makes a probably foolish decision.

He slips out of the dorm quietly and shuffles down the hallway, down the elevator, and out the entrance way. Outside, he finds lip print jacket boy and only lip print jacket boy waiting for him. Lip print jacket boy offers Mark a friendly smile and everything feels surreal.

“Hey?” Mark greets first.

“Hey, took you long enough,” Haechan says. He tosses a pouch of pebbles into the nearby bushes.

“How did you know which room I was in?” Mark asks, careful not to sound accusatory with his tone.

Haechan rolls his eyes like he expected the question.

“I flew and looked.”

Mark nods. “Right, of course.” Okay… lip print jacket boy just might be one of those crazy fans, Mark’s right shoulder angel warns. Mark’s left shoulder devil tells it to shut up.

Haechan raises a quizzical brow. “No, I was super serious.”

Mark raises his hands in defense. “No, no, I believe you.”

Mark’s tone is actually really convincing and that’s kind of cool, Haechan thinks, but he’s been trained to read body language. Besides, he’s a good actor himself. Dionysus always tells him so.

“Look, Mark Lee. I don’t want you get the wrong idea. I’m not a fan. I’m not even human. I’m just here to do my job.”

Mark’s eyebrows want to join his hairline. “Riiiiight,” he says cooly. “And your job would be?”

Haechan pretends not to see him slowly stepping away.

“I’m pretty sure I already told you, Mark Lee. I’m going to make you fall in love.”

Haechan raises his hand and a golden bow materializes out of thin air along with a matching quiver. Mark’s eyes almost pop out of his skull.

“Am I dreaming?” Mark pinches himself. He winces.

“Mark Lee,” Haechan starts, slipping the quiver over his shoulder and drawing an arrow with a heart-shaped arrowhead, “I’m a Cupid aka an official emissary sent by the goddess Aphrodite herself to forcefully administer the power of love into your life.”

“You’re joking…”

“This isn’t a joke, Mark Lee, nor a dream. I’ve come to make you fall in love for the wellbeing of the universe. You’re spreading too many negative ideals of love via your music.”

“You’re targeting me because I make relatable music? Love is overrated, anyway. You can't do this!”

Mark isn’t sure what’s more unbelievable? The fact that lip print boy could actually be a fairytale creature or the fact that he’s arguing with a fairytale creature. He pinches himself again and prays it doesn’t hurt--it still does.

“I can and I will, Mark Lee. Prepare yourself.”

“You can’t force me to like anyone. I’m fine being by myself.”

Mark holds his ground, almost as if frozen in place, unwavering even whilst being at the end of Haechan’s golden bow--drawn back and held taut with a heart-shaped arrow--aiming directly for his chest.

His glare is icy and it sends shivers up Haechan’s spine, but the Cupid remains poised. Steady. Focused. He ignores the pricking of tiny aches already forming in his right arm, pushes away the self-doubt about being rusty, and then lets out a chuckle to calm his butterfly nerves.

“You don’t have a choice, Mark. In seven days, you’ll fall in love with whom I choose, whether you like it or not.”

Before Mark can say anything else, Haechan relaxes his fingers.

The arrow hits before Mark can blink and knocks him back off his feet before he can gasp.

He doesn’t feel pain when he hits the ground, though. His chest stings, yes. His breathing picks up, yes. But it isn’t from pain. All at once, more and more vivid colors seep into his vision. The hairs on his arms stand up. His skin tingles. He feels lighter. He starts to panic.

“Woah, calm down,” Haechan says as he approaches. Each crunch of the gravel from his black boots echo loud in Mark’s ears and moreover his voice seems like it came from Mark’s own mind. Mark’s heart pounds away at his chest with each step Haechan takes towards him.

What the hell did lip print jacket boy do to him? 

Some of Mark’s senses finally kick in and he sits up abruptly. He runs his hands all over chest hastily, flings his t-shirt off of himself, actually, and pats all over his chest where he swears he felt the arrow hit him.

No signs of entry. No scars. No trace. Nothing. The arrow that struck his chest is nowhere to be found. Mark glimpses in Haechan’s direction and doesn’t notice a bow in-hand either. Did he imagine it? For a second, Mark doubts his sanity, but then he slaps himself. Hard.

A self-inflicted injury is interestingly what he needs to brings himself back to reality. Yes, this was reality, Mark thinks. Sure, Cupids can be real. The Greek gods he learned about in school? They’re real, too. Hercules? The realest. Mount Olympus? Real, why not?

Haechan watches Mark’s breakdown slightly concerned, but for other reasons. Right before his arrow struck, he felt Mark’s aura flare up a bit, and ever since then, he could finally sense Orpheus trapped within him. The ancient energy was leaking and at an alarming rate no less.

Could Mark’s body and mind withstand such an admission of energy? Orpheus has clearly already had an influence over Mark if he was writing songs that spread anti-love, but just how far did that influence reach? Was the leak a sign that Orpheus was trying to overpower his vessel?

Possessions were certainly out of Haechan’s jurisdiction. He makes a mental note to tell Aphrodite about the leak and files it away in his brain. He has more important matters to tend to like the shirtless pop idol having a crisis outside of his apartment at three in the morning.

”Are you done being dramatic yet, Mark?”

Mark looks up at him bewildered. “Are you serious?” His confusion then morphs into anger and he stumbles up to his feet, grabbing for Haechan’s collared-jacket with the stupid lip prints, clinging onto him clumsily.

Haechan has to take a step back to counterbalance Mark suddenly throwing all his weight on him, but the image of the brooding, anti-love idol looking so helpless in his arms is strangely amusing.

“Still not used to the effects?”

“Shut up,” Mark grumbles into Haechan’s chest.

Mark finds it hard to breathe. Hard to stand. Hard to think. His body is all out of whack and he hates it. Standing up shouldn’t be strenuous for him so why is it so strenuous for him? He works out five days a week so why do his muscles feel so weak?

“What… what did you do?”

Haechan ignores the question. Voice falling soft, he asks, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know… weak… useless.”

The pain in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“What did you do to my body?” Mark asks again. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I—” He breaks off into a coughing fit.

Haechan runs his hand in small circles over Mark’s back and whispers for him to breathe in and out slowly. Mark, feeling defeated and exhausted, just listens to him. He focuses on Haechan’s heartbeat, soft and steady unlike his own. His own heartbeat could break a rib, he thinks.

Only when a burst of cold air whips through do they remember where they’re at—outside in the back of BnB’s dormitory—where Mark is currently shirtless and in the arms of some stranger. That would be a pretty image above gossip headlines to wake up to in the morning.

He doesn’t want to leave Haechan’s warmth, but he also doesn’t need lurking fans ruining his life so he tries standing up on his own. He’s surprised when he can. Haechan laughs at his disbelief and the sound causes a funny reaction inside Mark’s chest. His body must still be odd.

Mark has to take his time picking his shirt up off the ground and then maneuvering it over his arms, his head, his body. He feels disconnected, out of place in his own body. Haechan observes him with a impish smile tugging at his lips.

“Not so useless after all, huh?”

Mark sends him a glare, but it’s nowhere as cold as the one from earlier. It’s impossible for it to be.

“This is so weird,” Mark whines. He’s trying his hardest to keep himself grounded. “Why do I feel so weird?” Mark flails his arms around. They don’t even feel like his.

“Congrats, Mark Lee, you’ve officially made it out of shock,” Haechan says, “Your body was rejecting the serum so that’s why you felt helpless. But for this type of procedure, you’ll learn it’s been not to fight it.”

“What’s ‘it’?”

“The ‘Feels’,” Haechan sings.

Woah, lip print jacket boy’s voice does something to him, too, Mark notices, but that sparks a random thought.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

The question catches Haechan off guard and he freezes.

“My name?” he repeats dumbly, pointing at himself. “Uh.. why?”

“Because,” Mark responds simply.

No one has ever asked Haechan what is name was. He’s completed over a hundred assignments and literally no one has asked him what his name was. He usually introduces himself as a Cupid and that’s that. Now, quite frankly, Haechan’s confused.

“Because what?”

Mark shifts back and forth on his heels and shrugs. “I dunno, because I want to know?” He shrugs again. “I’ve been wanting to know…”

Haechan watches the slightly taller boy with skepticism plain as day in his countenance. Mark’s cheeks are red from the cold.

“Do you lose your powers if you tell your name or something? Are Cupids even allowed to have names?”

Haechan snorts. “You’re kidding me.”

It’s three in the morning and Haechan is laughing like he’s at a circus. Mark shushes him, but stops because his body is acting weird again.

“Am I Rumplestiltskin or something?” Haechan says in between bursts of laughter. Mark swears he hears someone shout shut up. When Haechan finally catches his breath, he gives Mark a smile brighter than a rising sun.

“My ‘work’ name is Haechan.”

“What about your real name?”

Haechan winks. “That’s personal, but since you’re looking like you feel a lot better now, I’ll let you go.”

“Wait, what? H-Haechan, what the hell is going on? What did you do to me? Explain something!”

“Didn’t I tell you, Mark? Seven days: you’re gonna fall in love.”

“With?”

Haechan jumps in the air, but never touches the ground. Mark’s jaw does, though, as he watches Haechan lift higher and higher, pulled by seemingly invisible wires.

“Day One starts tomorrow, Mark Lee, see you then!”

Haechan waves before ascending higher into the sky.

Dumbfounded, Mark watches him long after he disappears into the night.

Two hours later, his manger finds him still staring at the sky, blue-lipped and shivering. While carrying Mark back up, his manager asks jokingly if he’s put on weight.

Mark replies, “I think my heart has.”


	6. Chapter 6

When Jaemin returns from his and Mark’s room, he finds four pairs of owlish eyes waiting for him at the breakfast table.

Renjun speaks first. “Is he—?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Well—not at the moment, but he’s going to be,” Jaemin assures. 

“What does that even mean?” Jisung asks.

Jaemin grabs a box a cereal and pours himself some in the bowl Jeno set out for him.

“Manager spoke to a doctor on the phone and said Mark was probably having a nervous breakdown. Said he needs rest.”

Jeno scratches his head. “Is sleep all it takes to cure a mental breakdown?”

“What is he even mentally breaking down over?” Jisung asks. “We’ve barely had any activities lately.”

“Don’t be dumb, Jisung,” Renjun retorts, reaching over the table and flicking his ear. “You can have a mental breakdown at any time. All it takes is stress or anxiety.”

Jisung retaliates by flicking a dry cheerio back. “I know THAT, I meant what would be the reason then? Like why do you think, doofus?”

“Because he’s stopped writing?” Chenle suggests, and it hangs in the air like a heavy rain cloud… That is, until Jaemin speaks up.

“Nope, that’s not it,” Jaemin says after downing down the rest of the milk in the bowl. “He was writing last night. I fell asleep before him and that never happens.”

Jeno playfully wipes the milk-stache from Jaemin’s lip and the other three pretend they didn’t see anything.

“Regardless of what caused his quote-on-quote ‘mental breakdown’, it's important that we make sure he knows he can rely on us,” Jaemin says, changing the pace around. “I think we all might have dropped the ball on moral support these last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jeno says, and of course no is surprised. “Mark does so much for this group—for us—and I think we’ve become too comfortable.”

“We’re BnB, guys, not Mark Lee and friends,” Jaemin continues. “We should contribute, if not the same, then just as much as him.”

“Are we done being cheesy here?” Jisung asks, and after a moment, it prompts everyone to laughter.

“Way to ruin it!”

Mark ends up sleeping for the entire day and during that time, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Chenle, and Jisung all work on writing lyrics to some of their unused beats.

Ms. Aphrodite is out on “Olympus business” by the time Haechan returns to the Clouds, but he really can’t afford to wait with this Orpheus energy leak situation. He needs to talk to someone, and although he’s reluctant, he has no other choice but to pay HER a visit.

It’s just unfortunate that the next person who’s the most knowledgeable on the topic of Reincarnates and Antiques happens to be one of the few people legally capable of hunting them down.

Yerim was her real name, but she dropped the “M” after dropping her first rogue Antique.

“Haechan! You NEVER come to visit me!” Yeri shouts from the ice cream bar. She waves him over and he plops himself down on a stool next to her. She orders him a vanilla cone and sends the bartender away before he can protest. When he gets the cone, it’s already begun to melt.

“So, what's the occasion, Haechan-my sweet?” Yeri chirps, licking away merrily at her own rainbow sprinkled delight. Her taste in toppings suited her personality, at least on the surface.

“Irene put me on an Antique case where the Antique ended up also being a Reincarnate.”

Yeri frowns. “Since when do you do Antique missions?””

Haechan rolls his neck around dramatically. “Since now apparently.”

“And your first Antique ended up being a Reincarnate? Tough break.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And who-”

“Orpheus.”

“Damn,” Yeri laughs. Haechan joins.

“Didn’t he go to the Underworld to get his wife back and when they were leaving, he couldn’t look back at her until they were both out?”

“Yeah,” Haechan mumbles over a mouth full of ice cream. 

“Oh, I think I almost cried learning that in Clio’s class.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was a sad story,” Yeri says, “When he finally made it out of the Underworld, he was so eager to see his wife that he turned around, but in his excitement, he hadn’t realized that she didn’t make it all the way out yet herself. And bye-bye she went. How unfair is that?”

Haechan inhales sharply. “Yeah, that is unfair—” then exhales  “—but so is me getting stuck on this mission. WHICH, by the way, is why I wanted to meet you. I need some help.”

“Changing the subject are we?” Yeri says with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “What is it?”

Haechan ignores her inquisitive stare and tells her about the leak.

“Oh, Haechan, that isn’t good… You need to tell Irene.”

“Irene’s not here, why do you think I came to you, instead?”

“If the Orpheus energy inside of your Antique overpowers his soul then…”

“I know. No more Mr. Mark Lee.”

“Wait, WHAT did you just say?”

Yeri practically headbutts him as fast as she leans forward. Haechan has to put some space between them to remain comfortable. 

“I said, ‘no more Mr. Mark Lee’, why?”

Yeri’s head almost falls from her shoulders.

“Who the hell put you on him?” she growls, suddenly standing up. “He’s been on my list-to-hunt for weeks now!”

It’s Haechan’s turn to be shocked, now. “Your what?” he shouts, not caring how loud he is in the once peaceful ice cream parlor. “You can’t ‘hunt’ Mark Lee, no way!

“Haechan, you idiot, I don’t think you understand. Once an Antique is placed on my list they’re not taken off until I take care of them.”

“No, I don’t care. I already started the matchmaking process, he’s mine.”

“Matchmak--” Yeri laughs. “You can’t matchmake an Antique, idiot?”

“Umm, yes, I can, and I will,” Haechan says and he’s adamant on that.

“Are you hearing yourself right now? You just said there’s an energy leak inside him. In case you forgot, a leaky Reincarnate-Antique has NEVER been cured by a Cupid.”

“I’ll be the first, then.”

Just thinking of that 2% increasing to 3% on his permanent record just sends shivers down his spine.

“I’m sorry, Yeri,” Haechan starts, ”but I can’t let you do anything to him. Had I known he was on your list, I would have never came to you for advice.”

Yeri clenches her teeth.

“I… can’t believe… that I am going to say this… but Lee Donghyuck…  you have… however as much time it takes for me to get through my queue… before I come for Mark Lee. You are extremely lucky I don’t skip order.”

Haechan lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Zeus, yo—”

“I’m not done,” Yeri snaps, and Haechan holds his tongue. “When I’m all caught up, though, and Mark Lee’s name is next on my list, I won’t hesitate to go after him, and I won’t give you a head’s up, either.”

Haechan scoffs. “Better move quick then.”

Smirking, Yeri sniffs the air. “Hmm? What’s this… aroma? Jealousy? You haven’t been bitten by a lovebug, have you, my dear Haechannie?”

“Oh, please,” Haechan huffs. “You say that everytime we’re together. When am I’m NOT wearing lovebug repellent?”

Yeri snickers.

“Well, you know they say when you’re dealing with certain types of Antiques that sometimes repellent will wear off faster~” Yeri’s smile is ear to ear and Haechan isn’t having it.

“If you’re too close to them, that is,” Haechan counters. He knows his stuff, too. And he hasn’t...

...even been that close... to... Mark...

Shit. 

Haechan swallows and takes a deep breath, forcing his thoughts not to betray his stone-faced expression in front of Yeri.

“Anyways! If we’re done here, I have some names to cross off, don’t I!” Yeri blows him a kiss, then leaves.

Have I been bitten by a lovebug?, Haechan wonders. When I was in the field? He tries to remember back to any moments where he felt… DIFFERENT for a moment, but he can’t THINK of any! He convinces himself that Yeri was trying to get under his skin like always and distract him.

He tucks all of doubts and suspicons away knowing it’s just what Yeri wants him to have. He has bigger fish to fry. With Yeri’s threat looming over his head, Haechan realizes he has to speed things up. He’ll have to matchmake Mark Lee ASAP. He had some work to do.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a strange dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow an update! XD

Mark dreams of roses, bright red and blooming, freshly sprung from the dark, rich earth. They’re the kind best wrapped in striped sheer and pretty ribbon, best meant for gift-giving. He picks some. He sticks his hand into the rose bush full of thorns and laughs when it tickles.

He picks a dozen, and when he realizes he’s picked the earth bare, he giggles and puts some back. He only needs seven. One for each letter of his name. Roses smell good, don’t they? He’s never smelled freshly picked ones before so he sees for himself. Mhm, they do smell good.

When he opens his eyes, he’s outside of his dorm building. In the back where they had first met. Mark looks to the sky and waits. The night sky is full of twinkling stars, and Mark wonders which one is it that he comes from. He hides his bouquet of seven roses behind his back.

As the night grows colder and the stars begin to fade, Mark gives up on trying to count them all. An icy chill has settled underneath his skin and pricks it worse than the rose bushes. “What’s taking him so long?” A numbness creeps on the outskirts of his mind.

The fluttering of a rose petal catches his attention, and Mark’s heart sinks as he examines the bouquet. Coldness, greedy and hungry, had bitten pieces of the flowers’ crowns, and the unforgiving air had made them stiff and rigid. One strong breeze would snap them.

No one would accept flowers like these. Mark throws the seven roses to the ground and stomps on every one of them until they’ve turned into fine dirt. Snow flurries fall all around him, and when he looks up, one lands in his eye. It burns and hot lava runs down his cheeks.

He lets his tears flow to warm him body some, to chase away the coldness of the night and the disappointment of the wait. He sets down the mic and waves farewell to the fans, ignoring their chants for an encore and exits the stage. He’s done performing for them. He’s done.

He shrugs off his members’ supportive touches and ignores his manager’s inquisitive gaze. He keeps walking down the long, gray hallway, past the group’s dressing room, past the restrooms, past the opening of the cave. When he stops to look back, a flash of sunshine blinds him.

When he can see again, only a jacket with a lip print design remains. The darkness of the cave laughs at him, and Mark lets it. He drops to his knees and scoops the jacket up into his arms, burying his face into it to muffle his screams. 

Mark wakes with a start.

The room is dark, and it takes awhile for Mark’s eyes to adjust, for his brain to get up to speed, for him to catch his breath. 

“Mark, are you okay?” 

Mark jumps in surprise, turning away from the wall to find Jaemin leaning over him, wide-eyed and puffy faced.

“W-what? I’m—,” Mark breaks off into a cough that burns. His mouth feels like it’s been filled with sand. A glass of water appears in front of him, and he takes it eagerly, downing it all in one breath. Jaemin refills the it for him again.

After the second glass and lots of throat clearing, he finally says, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and Jaemin huffs.

“Oh, sure you are, thirsty.” Jaemin looks at him intensely for a moment. “I think you were having a nightmare—you okay?”

“Was I?” Mark frowns, trying to recall. He can’t.

Jaemin studies him for a moment longer before yawning and heading back to his bed. “Alright then. Try to go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

Mark glances at the glowing red digital on his desk and is hit with a wave of guilt. They were never up this early during a rest period.

“Sorry for waking you.”

Jaemin makes a derisive noise that Mark interprets as a sleepy, watered version of sass. Mark pushes himself up against the wall and reaches for his phone... or at least where it should be. Mark tosses his blankets around to no avail.

“You said you were sorry,” Jaemin mumbles.

“Oh... sorry,” Mark whispers. He slips out of bed and tiptoes to his desk. He tries rummaging through it as quietly as he can, but Jaemin’s loud sigh updates him on his success of that. “Sorry—“

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it!”

Mark hears the ruffling of blankets behind him, and when he peeks over his shoulder, Jaemin is sitting up and sending a nasty glare his way. 

“What are you looking for?” Jaemin asks grumpily.

Mark waves his hand. “Oh, no, it’s okay...“ Jaemin blinks. Mark cracks. “My phone.”

Jaemin’s face contorts into confusion, but then relaxes as the realization of something hits him. His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. 

“What is it?” Mark asks. Jaemin suddenly looks uneasy, and starts playing with his bear slippers, poking his feet in and out. “Jaemin—come on—what?”

“The manager has it.”

Mark’s face goes through the same ordeal—confusion, then realization. His mind bursts with a rush of memories, and the room spins around him.

“Woah, Mark—“

Mark braces himself on his desk. “I’m fine,” he urges. Jaemin comes over anyway.

“You probably shouldn’t be standing,” Jaemin says, guiding Mark towards his bed. Mark wants to ask what’s wrong with him standing, but he can’t seem to force the words out through the haze. He listens to the firm pressure Jaemin applies to his shoulders and sits.

Jaemin joins him and runs his hand in circles against Mark’s back. Mark’s seen Jaemin do to this the younger members whenever they were sick or sad, but he’s never been on the receiving end himself. He feels like he’s been robbed. After a while, Jaemin asks if he’s okay.

Mark nods and when he feels Jaemin’s skepticism, he insists verbally. 

“Do you... I’m probably not supposed to ask you this...” Jaemin plays with his slippers again. 

“Just do it.”

“Do you remember anything?” Jaemin winces like the words had cut his tongue. “Why you were...”

“Outside?” Mark completes for him. Jaemin raises his brows.

“So, you do remember—“

“—Yes, I remember it all. Everything...”

Jaemin leans forward, as if waiting for Mark to spill a secret. Well, there was a secret, but he wasn’t planning on sharing that anytime soon.

Somehow, with his intuitive ways, Jaemin seems to pick that up, and he rolls his eyes, shoving Mark away before standing up. “Of course you’re not going to tell anyone,” he says bitterly. Instead of heading back to his bed, he stops at the door. “You seem fine now. You coming?”

Mark glances at the clock again. “It’s barely 5?”

“You slept for twenty-four hours, aren’t you hungry?”

Mark’s stomach growls on cue, and a sheepish smile spreads across his face. Jaemin snorts and leaves first. Before Mark follows, he has to see something for himself.

He finds Jaemin’s phone on a tragic 31%, but more importantly he finds that Jaemin’s comment about him sleeping a whole day hadn’t been an exaggeration. His stomach flips in a way that isn’t related to hunger.

He slept through his ‘Day One’... 

Did Haechan try to visit him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) HE HAS RETURNED MWAHAHAHAHA but seriously, sorry for the absence, my mind is so fickle lmfaoo


End file.
